


Patience on a Monument

by Theoroark



Series: Dark Room [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Widowmaker in Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18573136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Team Talon attending a duo of parties in Havana- with and without Maximilien's knowledge.





	1. Chapter 1

Akande didn’t trust her. Sombra didn’t need his dour statements of “I don’t trust anyone,” she knew that. He was a smart man, with a mass of connections and resources, and she was improvising her way to power. His distrust was an inevitable, necessary handicap, and one she was quite comfortable living with.

Especially because when Akande wanted to do something quite stupid and childish like, say, hosting his birthday party in Maximilien’s rum factory to spite the Omnic, for getting him in prison those years ago? Then even with all his distrust, he would need Sombra’s help to get in. And so he just had to stew silently as she took a little longer than was entirely necessary to unlock the warehouse, leaving him and the gaggle of Talon people he respected shivering in the cold night air.

Speaking of. “I noticed Moira isn’t here,” Sombra said innocently. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Akande grit his teeth.

“She must not have been able to come.”

“I could get her a ship real fast, if you want. She could probably still make it.” Akande didn’t dignify that with a response and Sombra, having had her share of fun, took mercy on him and popped the door open. The crowd behind them heaved a sigh of relief, and Akande waited to address them until they were warm inside.

“There’s an open bar,” he announced. “With actually good booze in it. Some drink up.”

In the stampede to get to the bar, Sombra lost sight of her. But Widow found her in the end, tugging on her wrist as Sombra craned her neck to search the crowd. When Sombra turned to her, she was holding a wine bottle in her free hand. Sombra glanced back at the bar. The Omnic waiter Akande had hired for the night looked truly overwhelmed, as every guest save for Gabe clamored for something to warm them. They probably wouldn’t miss one bottle.

“What’s the plan, spider?” Sombra asked. She broke her wrist from Widow’s grip, only to intertwine their fingers instead. Widow smiled and pulled her away from the crowd, towards a metal staircase.

“Come on. We’re going exploring.”

Exploring in this case meant picking another lock as Widow passed her the bottle and stole it back. When she finally opened the door and turned on the lights though, Widow just looked disappointed.

“This is Max’s office. I thought it’d actually be posh.”

“I don’t think he actually does any work here,” Sombra pointed out. “Or like. Much work period.” Widow snorted in agreement and in a quiet consensus, they split apart to discover whatever dirt they could: Widow carefully rifling through drawers and Sombra seated at the computer.

“I found some nice cigars,” Widow announced, after an interlude of silent searching. “Even if does notice they’re gone, he’s definitely not going to know who took them.” She walked over to the desk and set the box, alongside the almost-empty wine bottle, down next to Sombra. “How about you?”

“I found his bookmarked fanfiction.”

“WHAT.” Sombra looked out the window, alarmed, but there was no lull in the babble below them, and she doubted Akande would discourage them making fun of Akande anyway. Widow leaned over Sombra, her long ponytail slapping Sombra’s shoulder gently. “What is it?!”

“Shakespeare stuff. I don’t know if that’s classy or like, the most embarrassing.” Sombra clicked on a link and Widow’s eyes narrowed, scanning the text. “He’s a big Olivia/Viola shipper, I guess.”

“But does Olivia get fucked?”

Sombra stared up at Widow. “Uh.”

“Or does she fuck Viola,” Widow said, waving a hand dismissively. “I just want to know if there’s any good bits in here. And it seems like Olivia’s more of a bottom.”

“Right. Right.” Sombra turned back to Max’s computer. Widow was still leaning over her, brushing up against her, and Sombra dearly hoped she wasn’t reading too much into how warm Sombra suddenly felt. “I kind of feel like she’d be a switch though,” she added.

“Maybe. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Twelfth Night.”

“You were in theater. You should know this stuff.”

Widow’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “I did ballet. And tragically, most lit courses neglect this manner of analysis.”

“I knew I never missed much, not going to school.” Widow leaned back a little at that but Sombra kept her eyes on the screen, scanning the fic. “I think they just do a fade to black before they get to any actually juicy stuff.”

“Cowards.”

“Yeah, well.” Sombra looked away from the monitor, only to see Widow wander towards the window overlooking the coast. “You want to go back to the party?”

“No.”

“You want to hook up in Max’s office?”

She meant it as a joke, but Widow took her time contemplating before she answered. “No,” she said finally. “I want to get something more to drink. Then I go out there.”

She pointed to the sea fort. Sombra shrugged, finished off the bottle and set it on Max’s desk, and stood.

The crowd around the bar had dispersed, but it was still busy enough that now one stopped Sombra and Widow from taking their martinis outside. Widow made it a couple yards down the cracked and bumpy asphalt before she stopped, cursing, and pulled off her pumps. Sombra looped her arm around Widow’s and let Widow lean on her as they walked, Widow wincing as the pavement scratched at her feet.

“Your dress is cute,” she murmured into Sombra’s shoulder as they passed the archway of the fort. It was abandoned, thankfully, just the ships Akande’s guests had arrived on idling in the empty hangar. Sombra smiled, and touched the black and silver floral pattern of the skirt.

“Thanks. You look pretty good tonight too.” Widow hummed. Sombra stopped them, set her glass down, and with both hands now free, untied Widow’s bowtie. Widow raised an eyebrow.

“Now you look more the part,” Sombra explained. “Runaway party girl. All ruffled and carefree and shit.”

Widow laughed, shrugged off her tuxedo jacket, and handed it to Sombra. “You just look cold,” she said. “So take this.” Sombra was, in fact, cold, and moreover she knew the jacket smelled like Widow’s cologne, like oranges and amber. And so she happily put it on. The two of them just stared at each other for a moment, content in the fresh air and in looking good.

“Let’s get to the top of this thing,” Widow said suddenly, and was scrambling barefoot over rubble before Sombra could respond. Sombra laughed quietly and followed.

“I don’t know why you’re so… inquisitive, today.”

Widow hoisted herself up the wall, carefully balancing her drink, and looked thoughtful as she took Sombra’s glass and helped her follow. “It’s nostalgic,” she said finally.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Not here-here. But that’s the thing. You know when you were a kid, and you got to a new place, someplace where it felt like maybe you shouldn’t be, and you got to explore? Like a grandparent’s attic, or some abandoned barn, something like that. And you felt like you were about to find Narnia, or something?”

Sombra didn’t. She could vaguely, vaguely recall the excitement of running around a cousin’s back yard or something, but hiding and exploring had quickly become about fear and survival, and that drowned out any nostalgia she might have had. But Widow rarely shared like this, rarely had words for her feelings. And even if she didn’t remember, she could feel the lightness and utterly safe sense of danger present now, making the air around the crackle and making Widow smile. So Sombra just smiled back, and nodded. That made Widow smile wider, and she trotted up the grassy stone to the highest parapet of the fort. She set her martini and the cigar box on the ledge and pulled out two cigars.

“I don’t have anything to light those with,” Sombra felt obliged to point out. Widow made a face and put them back in.

“I should have taken the lighter from his office too.”

“You want to go back?”

“No. This is nice.” Sombra hummed in assent. They were quiet for a while, the sea wind blowing their hair out of their bindings. Widow leaned over the edge slightly and Sombra watched her. She trusted Widow, as much as she trusted anybody, but Widow was so bad at talking about her feelings, she still surprised Sombra, and the waves were crashing so high and hard against the fort’s stone walls. It was one of those far-fetched ideas where once it occurred to you, even when you knew it almost certainly wasn’t going to happen, the possibility that it could–

“If you could live anywhere in the world,” Widow asked, mercifully breaking through Sombra’s thoughts, and mercifully leaning back towards solid earth. “Where would it be?”

“Huh. Dunno.” Widow waited, and Sombra stared out over the black ocean as she thought. “You mean like, one place forever?”

“I mean, you could leave. You wouldn’t be imprisoned there.”

“Yeah but, you’d never be able to move? Even if you got bored or found a different job or something?”

Widow looked bemused. “I’ll be honest. I just meant this as a, ‘what’s your favorite place’ sort of deal. I wasn’t expecting a contract negotiation.”

“Right.” Sombra laughed, self-conscious. “Guess it’s just weird to think about,” she said after a moment. “I haven’t lived in just one place for a while.”

“I know you have a place in Dorado,” Widow said lightly, and Sombra felt a pang of unease, at how evident it was that she was not particularly good at sharing, either.

“That’s more of a touchpad,” Sombra said. Widow nodded and Sombra quickly asked, “What about you?”

“Mmm.” Widow leaned against the parapet wall again, but kept her hips firmly over the ground this time. Her shirt rode up her back, Sombra noticed, white and blue contrasting nicely in the moonlight.

“If we’re going to get into semantics,” Widow said. “I’d like to have the Chateau, wherever I end up. But if I could move that anywhere–” She waved her hand over the coast, and the distant Havana lights. “I like beaches, and cities. Someplace like this would be nice.”

Sombra nodded. “I like them too.” Dorado was a city, Dorado had a beach, she was so close to saying it, but the words stuck on her pride.

In any case. She wasn’t particularly sure she’d want to live in Dorado, not if she knew she was never leaving there.

“Then you’ll help me buy some property out from under Max,” Widow said, and once again she didn’t seem to notice Sombra’s discomfort, and once again Sombra was relieved. Sombra sipped her martini and grinned.

“Sure. How you want to do this? Voiding his contracts? Blackmail? Blackmail’s the most fun, I recommend it.”

“And we just found the perfect fodder.”

“You’re right. This was a very productive mission.” Sombra raised her glass, Widow raised hers, and they drank.

“You’ll have to have me over though,” Sombra added, setting her empty glass back down on the stone. Widow grinned.

“Presumptuous.”

“I can make it worth your while.”

“Prove it,” Widow said.

Her voice had gone all low and her eyes had gone all dark, and Sombra could have pointed out how ridiculous this all was. How it was a cold night and how the stone was hard and dirty beneath them. The shirt Widow was wearing that Sombra was unbuttoning was white and so was nice bra Sombra was unclasping and both of them were getting tossed to the ground. Akande would certainly know what they had been up to when they got back to the party, all dirty and disheveled. For that matter if someone left early, they would certainly hear them on their way to the hangar. This fort may have reminded Widow of her childhood but they weren’t teenagers. They could certainly wait until they were back in their ship, at the least.

But the air around them was still crackling, and Widow was still smiling. And Widow’s hand was brushing up her thigh slipping her panties out of the way. Sombra gasped and drew her nails down Widow’s back. Widow laughed softly as she teased Sombra’s cunt and despite how ridiculous it all was, Sombra could have lived in this moment forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This initially wasn't going to have a summary but [@moiami23](https://twitter.com/moiami23) on twitter drew [this unbelievable Havana!Spiderbyte](https://twitter.com/moiami23/status/1208913263276113920?s=20) art and I wanted to write something based on it so bad. Follow & appreciate her and also [@purrahms](https://twitter.com/purrahms), who I got [a commission](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma/status/1128764956923424768?s=20) from of the first chapter a few months ago!

Maximilien tries to hide it. But somehow, even with steel facial features and a modulated voice, it is obvious to everyone that he is displeased that Akande’s returned. It’s not even just the warehouse cleanup. It’s how Akande swiftly and calmly consolidates the council back under his vision, making it impossible for Max to just fuck around on his pet ventures like he had before. It’s how Akande is confident and charismatic and self evidently a leader, as plainly as Max is not one. 

 

It’s obvious. And so it’s obvious why Akande sends Sombra and Widowmaker back to Havana, a few months after the party. 

 

Sombra’s a little surprised to see Gabe at the briefing as well, but it makes sense. Maximilien aided Overwatch– indirectly, under duress, but still aided them. Gabe doesn’t trust anyone who so much as smiled at the Overwatch sigil. 

 

Akande changes the image on the briefing screen behind him, so that an invitation is displayed. “It’s a costume party,” he says, and suddenly Gabe’s involvement makes even more sense. “1970’s themed,” he adds. He wrinkles his nose as he stares at the painful attempt at a retro in font form, but Gabe is still struggling to smother a smile, predictably undeterred by any tackiness.

 

Widow leans forward. “And our charge is simply to… observe?”

 

“Partially,” Akande says. “Sombra and Reyes, I want gathering information from the warehouse and guests. You,” he nods to Widow, “I want with me on the floor, as backup.” He smiles thinly. “Our casino arrangement worked well with him last time, I believe.”

 

“You told me you suspected Maximilien was the one that put you away,” Widow says. Sombra could confirm but between the timing of Max’s brief detainment and Akande’s ensuing indefinite one, and the scowl that briefly passes over Akande’s face, she doesn’t think it’s really necessary. 

 

“Don’t you want us to take more… definite measures?” Widow asks. Akande shakes his head, first as if extricating himself from his bitterness, then as an answer to Widow’s question. 

 

“Max is useful because he has so little guile. I can learn from him, more than he can inhibit our goals. He can he useful. For now.” Widow nods tersely, and Sombra stifles a laugh at her visible disappointment. “But you’re correct that he’s not to be trusted. That’s why I want you there, Lacroix. I need you watching my back.”

 

Gabe’s been silent up until now, but as Sombra’s watching this, he turns to her. “I need you to actually be on task if we’re working together,” he says. 

 

“I will be,” Sombra snaps. She’s still trying to watch Akande and Widow out of the side of her eye, and barely contains her scowl when Gabe draws her attention back. 

 

“I can’t exactly be the center of attention at any party.” He gestures to his ruined face and Sombra gives a curt nod. “You’ll cover the front of the house while I infiltrate the back. Let me know if you see anyone coming my way.”

 

“You think you can be sneaky enough?” Gabe lifts a hand and lets it dissolve into smoke. “Point taken.”

 

“Reaper was engaged in covert operations before this, as well,” Widow says. Sombra starts a little, as she realizes Widow and Akande’s eyes are on them now. She adjusts her collar self-consciously. 

 

“I know. I just don’t want him running in trying to shotgun away his problems, like in St. Petersburg.”

 

Gabe growls, Akande looks unamused, but Widow smiles slightly. And that’s all Sombra’s ever cared about. 

 

“I’m not concerned about Reyes,” Akande says. “Make any preparations you need to now. We leave this afternoon.”

 

Gabe, Widow, and Sombra raise their hands simultaneously. Akande sighs and stands. “I told our armory to prepare appropriate costumes,” he says as he makes his way to the door. Gabe coughs loudly and Akande rolls his eyes. “Come on. Let’s do our makeover montage.”

 

-

 

“I think Akande just thought you wanted you to keep an eye on me,” Sombra says.

 

Widow looks up from her suitcase and quirks an eyebrow. They’re fresh off the plane but she looks good– long hair pulled back, some of it tugged out by the Havana breeze that’s coming in through their hotel window. She’s wearing an undershirt that Sombra can see her red lace bra through, and is taking out the rest of her three piece suit. Sombra waylays that effort by looking her arms around Widow’s neck, and Widow lets herself be pulled into a kiss.

 

“I’m not concerned with Akande’s judgment,” Widow says, when Sombra lets her go. Sombra smiles and lies back on the bed, content to watch Widow get dressed. All Sombra had to do was pull on a jumpsuit. Her hair and makeup are ready, and she can sleep with her girlfriend tonight without anyone catching on that they’re dating. She can relax.

 

Widow’s beautiful, fixing the buttons on her vest, but Sombra has all night to admire her. She lets her attention wander. She can see the ocean just past billowing sheer curtains. The room is predominantly white, save for a monstera plant in the corner and gold filigree on the ceiling. It strikes Sombra, like the rest of the wealthy district has, as embarrassingly nostalgic. Maximilien’s themed party makes sense in this context, but that doesn’t mean Sombra gets the context. It seems like an immense sign of weakness, to fear modernity this much. 

 

Widow walks across Sombra’s line of sight, drawing her attention back to her. Widow leans towards the mirror as she affixes great ruby earrings. Then she turns and stands before Sombra, waiting for judgment. Sombra takes in her faded black suit, her ruffled white shirt and gold and orange tie. Sombra’s purple lipstick is still apparent on Widow’s lips, and Sombra can’t resist reaching up and adding a matching mark to Widow’s neck.

 

“You look beautiful,” Sombra says. Widow hums and looks over Sombra’s aqua jumpsuit and giant hoop earrings.

 

“We don’t match,” Widow says.

 

“Good,” Sombra says. “We’ll throw them off our tail.” And Widow laughs and kisses her, and lets Sombra unbutton her vest and shirt and undo all her hard work.

 

-

 

Maximillien plays disco to a ballroom, serves hot dog appetizers with his bland rum. His guests smile and fawn over him nonetheless. Sombra watches them from the balcony above, an invisible earpiece slotted into her ear. She knows she’s supposed to be gathering intel about the other attendants, but they’re not doing anything more interesting than some passive aggressive side eye and some off-rhythm dancing. Her gaze keeps wandering back to Akande and Widow, trying to match their conversation to their actions. 

 

Akande and Widow are dancing now, but Akande stops them as the song changes to something slower. He groans. “Listen to the lyrics,” he mutters, as the singer’s crooning begins. “It’s insufferable.” 

 

“Why would I listen, then?” Widow asks. Sombra grins. She wishes Widow would look up at her, even though she knows Widow’s far too professional for that. Widow always seems to like when Sombra laughs at her jokes.

 

Akande sighs and lets Widow lead him in beginning to dance again. “I suppose I’m just oversaturated,” he says. “I am not… the greatest fan, of my girlfriend’s taste in music.”

 

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

 

“You’d hate her,” Akande says. Widow snorts and he chuckles. “I suppose it’s what you deserve, after what you’ve put me through with yours.”

 

Widow makes a vague noise of annoyance. She says nothing. She does not look particularly surprised or concerned. Sombra grips the balcony rail tight and stares straight ahead, not seeing any of the bright lights or bland formalwear. 

 

She’s used to weaving her way through a crisis. So she’s quickly able identify the possibilities, and their implications. The first is that Widow has another girlfriend, one she hasn’t told Sombra about. Sombra can quickly discard that one. Akande wouldn’t have been able to find out about that before her. 

 

The second is that Widow had some girlfriend Akande didn’t like before she and Sombra started dating. That’s unlikely, but possible. Sombra’s been with Talon longer than Widow has, but she’s always dedicated significant chunks of her time to her extracurriculars. Widow could have started and ended a relationship during one of her away periods. She doesn’t pay that close attention to Talon gossip. She doesn’t care about that, most of the time. But she would care with Widow. And so she doubts it escaped her notice. 

 

The final scenario is that Widow told Akande about them. It’s the most likely scenario by far. Widow and Akande are friends, they start their days out together at the gym and have some stupid book club Sombra’s never been invited to. People talk to friends about relationships and if Widow were going to go to anyone for advice– Gabe’s a disaster, she’s not close with de Kuibren, and Moira is pointedly not a friend. Akande would be who Widow told about Sombra. 

 

So it makes sense that she told Akande. What doesn’t make sense is how much that upsets Sombra. 

 

“Sombra.” She jolts as the second channel on her earpiece activates, silencing Akande and Widow. “I found a computer in the backroom. I need your help unlocking it.”

 

Sombra switches the channels again before she responds. Akande and Widow aren’t talking about her anymore. They’re talking about Akande’s new girlfriend– Elizabeth Ashe, Sombra knew already. Widow would definitely hate her. When she switches back to Gabe, he’s mid-impatient sigh.

 

“Yeah,” Sombra says. She turns her back on the dance floor. “I’ll be right there.”

 

-

 

“Finally,” Gabe says, as Sombra decloaks from her invisibility. He’s in a storage closet, crouched over a laptop that’s been disguised as a briefcase. Its screen is black. “I found this in Maximillien’s office, I’m sure anything he has this well hidden is important, but–”

 

Sombra pushes past him and taps her fingers an inch from the screen. It lights up in purple, and information scrolls across its screen. Gabe sighs and leans back. “Thanks,” he says.

 

“Yeah.” Sombra runs her free hand through her hair. She stares at the laptop, not reading any of the data she’s pulling from it. “Did you know about me and Widow?”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Gabe start. Bits of black vapor drift off him, almost imperceptible against the black cape-sleeved shirt he wears. “No,” he says. “I mean, you mean you’re dating?”

 

“Yeah,” Sombra says. She carefully keeps her tone casual. “I didn’t think we were telling people, but Widow told Akande. So I just wanted to check.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, they’re friends, they spend a lot of time together. It makes sense, I guess.”

 

“No, I mean– why didn’t you want people to know you were dating?”

 

Sombra loses concentration on the hack. She shakes her head and brings the screen back to life. She’s focusing on her job. But Gabe insists on distracting her. “Talon doesn’t have any anti-fraternization policies,” he says. “Agents at your and Widow’s level are essentially contractors anyway. And Widow’s never been involved with anyone at Talon. Why wouldn’t you tell people?”

 

“It’s easier,” Sombra mumbles.

 

“Is it? Because you seem pretty stressed about it now.”

 

“I just found out about it, okay?” Sombra snaps. Gabe says nothing and she sighs. “I don’t know. I guess it just felt easier to me.”

 

“Why do you think that is?”

 

Sombra’s used to improvising, used to thinking through all the possibilities in a split second. So before she can stop herself, she’s thought it through. She’s made the connection between this and Volskaya and Morrison. She likes secrets because she likes information she can control. If someone doesn’t know about a thing, they can’t do anything about it. If Akande doesn’t know Widow’s dating her, he can’t make shitty comments about how annoying he thinks she is. She doesn’t have to worry if Gabe is thinking of Widow as Mrs. Lacroix, like she’s worrying right now. Moira doesn’t have that bit of leverage over her, that control over Sombra via one of her lab rats.

 

If Widow and Sombra are a secret, than the only people who can touch them are the two of them. And Sombra trusts herself and inexplicably, she trusts Widow. If they’re a secret, Sombra feels in control.

 

Gabe is watching her, and his face is inscrutable when Sombra mutters, “I dunno,” and severs her connection with the laptop. She holds up a little cube of data. “All done,” she tells him.

 

“Good,” Gabe says. He stands, and offers a hand to help her up. “You can go back to the party, if you want.”

 

“I can keep helping you,” Sombra says. And God bless him, Gabe says nothing of it. Just dissolves into smoke, black platforms and all, and Sombra follows him out.

 

- 

 

Sombra spots Maximilien in their hotel lobby. He’s already approached her with paltry offers he seems quite proud of, if she were to turn on Gabe and Akande’s visions. She’s really not in the mood to deal with him again. She translocates up to her and Widow’s balcony. The door is open, and Widow doesn’t turn around as Sombra walks in and leans against the door frame.

 

All Sombra can do for a moment is watch. Widow’s in red lingerie, and her bra laces down her waist. The garters on her thighs holster stiletto knives and even when Sombra has always known they’re there it’s still intoxicating, watching Widow unsheath them one by one and set them in a case. Sombra was already confused but now, watching the curve of Widow’s spine and the swell of muscles Widow has painstakingly built, she doesn’t know which feelings she’s even supposed to be deciding from.

 

“Gabe checked in with Akande before we left,” Widow says. Her back is still to Sombra. “Akande was pleased with the work you got done.”

 

“Even if he wasn’t pleased with me,” Sombra says. Widow turns to her and she looks concerned now. 

 

“I told you,” Widow says. “I’m not concerned with Akande’s judgment.”

 

_ She really isn’t _ , Sombra realizes, and the thought strikes her dumb. Widow is standing there, in lingerie and knives. Widow did not keep them a secret because she trusts the two of them to handle anyone. Widow is not afraid, and that thought nearly terrifies Sombra.

 

But she can control herself, so Sombra simply walks towards her. Slips her arms around Widow, one hand against Widow’s cheek and the other against her bare waist. “I know,” Sombra says. Widow kisses her, lets Sombra pull down her panties and slip her fingers inside of her. Lets Sombra unhook her bra and lay her down, Widow naked and Sombra still fully dressed. The balcony door is open, letting moonlight glint off knives and ocean wind cool them down. And Widow does not care, and Sombra has never felt safer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world <3


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